Solace
by Fictionista 48
Summary: A thousand miles of rough road separate Marty Deeks from who he was yesterday and who he is today. Where will he find solace? Post ep. fic for 9/13. premiere.


**I haven't written creatively all summer, so I thought I'd take a break from editing Human Sacrifice (Yes, it will be out soon. Sorry to those who looked for it this summer. Editing has taken far longer than I anticipated, but I'm back on track, and the first book in the series will be available before the holidays. Thanks to everyone who has asked about it.) and give these two some attention. I still own nothing, of course, because life just ain't fair. A huge thank you to Effie for being awesome and assisting with the HS editing process. As always, reviews are amazing and very much appreciated, if you feel inclined to write one. Enjoy!**

* * *

Marty Deeks has spent his life vacillating between a fierce desire to prove his worth, and an equally fierce desire to prove nothing at all to anyone. He's done his best to come off as a care-free, irrelevant sort of man; the kind who takes very little seriously and lets every stress roll off his shoulders. And apparently, he's taken it too far. That is why, when strapped to a chair in a defunct auto body shop, beaten and tortured in the most horrific of ways, he didn't give in. Sam's words about his hair representing a lack of character echoed inside his throbbing head, strengthening his focus and galvanizing his will. He would not crack, would not give up Michelle. Oh, how much easier it could have been to just say yes. Yes, she's an agent. But he couldn't. Because he had something to prove.

There's so much more to Marty Deeks than unruly blonde hair and a never-ending supply of wisecracks and bad jokes. More than anyone could possibly guess. Hearing that a man Deeks truly respects thought less of him because of his appearance felt like a physical blow. Sure, they've all teased him. But he never really believed they thought badly of him. That punishing train of thought ran through his head for hours as the torture intensified.

Being awakened by Kensi – terrified and yet still somehow focused Kensi – had been like a dream. A dream that quickly turned into a nightmare.

"_You…you gotta get me out of here. Cut me loose."_

"_I can't. We don't have much time."_

"_What? What's happening?"_

"_You have to stay here just a little while longer."_

_God, no. Please…_

There was no comfort in knowing it was a setup. Because God alone only knew what might happen when his captors returned. In the span of time between watching Kensi and Granger walk away and hearing Michelle's voice as she questioned Sam to cover their asses, a lifetime elapsed. It gave him enough time to sink back into the recesses of his past and the past few hours, and realize just how much hurt he's endured. Not just today, but always. From as early as he can remember, pain has been his constant companion. It hangs below his happy, easygoing façade, keeping him company in the wee hours of the morning when it's just too quiet to sleep. It's been there all along. All the past hurts and traumas. But none had compared to today.

In its darkest moments, the torture was so excruciating, he could barely stay conscious. And while Sam's words concerning his character kept his will in place, Kensi's words kept him alive. Her words, her smile, her laugh, her quirky humor. Her eyes. Her scent. The memory of what her skin felt like when he was lucky enough to touch it. What her lips felt like when he'd lost his mind a little earlier today, and had kissed her. It all sustained him, kept him breathing and hanging on.

He's alone for the first time since it all unraveled and went to hell. Truth be told, he should still be in the hospital, drugged-up and well supervised, where psychiatric help is readily available. But he isn't. He's at home. Alone.

Earlier, he'd said that's exactly what he wanted. To get away from everything. And yes, although he hadn't said it, everyone. No one can possibly understand what he's been through. He hopes with all his heart that they never do; just as he'd told Kensi. She was empathetic and kind, soft and vulnerable, clearly hurting over what she'd seen him go through earlier, and what she'd been forced to do herself. He can't imagine what it must have been like for her to have no choice but to leave him behind and walk away. Had the tables been turned, he isn't at all sure he could have done the same to her. In fact, he's sure of it.

He paces, although it hurts. Everything aches, and despite the painkillers he was prescribed, he still feels acutely, everything sadistic thing that was done to him. Darkness paints his windows, and his soul as well. He feels trapped and suffocating. He wants to claw his way out of his own skin and escape what's inside him. He isn't himself anymore. He doesn't know who he is, and that scares him. He's always had a true sense of self. Even with all life has handed out, he's been secure in who he was. Or more appropriately _what_ he was. Now, he doesn't know who this man is living within his skin. This scarred, damaged, frightened man. This man who thinks being a cop may not be an option anymore.

He lies down on the couch. His body begs for rest, but his mind refuses. The fear and uncertainty and lack of any balance whatsoever shake him to his core. He needs out. But he can't escape his own mind and all the gruesome, terrifying, excruciating slides it's playing. No matter how tightly he closes his eyes, the reel still runs. He breathes deeply, in and out, trying to focus, just as he had earlier. Tears sear his eyes. Then he forces himself back to his safe place; to Kensi. He remembers every conversation between them, from the first to the last. Her every bad attempt at humor, every jab she ever threw at him. The playful banter. The dozens and dozens of donuts and hundreds of cups of coffee they've shared. But this time, all that isn't enough. And it doesn't have to be. She isn't just a set of memories now. She's real and tangible, and she's out there; at home, probably not sleeping either.

He sits up and finds his phone and does the only thing that makes sense. With shaking hands and tears clogging his throat, he waits for her to answer. When she does, his words are no more than a trembling breath.

"Kens…I need you."

* * *

Tonight, Deeks wasn't the man she's used to. Not at the Mission or out for drinks with Callen and Sam. He wasn't a man she's ever encountered. Hollow and shell-shocked, with injuries she wouldn't wish on her sworn enemies, her partner appeared to be someone else entirely. There was no levity, no smile, no…Deeks. And although she understood why, it scared the hell out of her.

She's trying hard to understand, trying just to _comprehend_, really, what he's been through. Walking into that building, weapon drawn, she'd feared the worst. Still, Kensi wasn't prepared for what she saw fifteen seconds later. And she's pretty damn certain she'll never get that image out of her head for as long as she lives. Her partner, her friend…maybe even more than that now…beaten bloody, obviously tortured, and possibly dead. The sinking feeling in her gut, the instant increase in her heart rate and blood pressure had made her dizzy. It had made her want to run back the way she'd come, and not face this horror. In the seconds before she knew he was alive, she'd felt her world collapse; the floor fall out from beneath her. But then he'd opened his eyes, and the relief had nearly taken her down.

She had known what she was expected to do, but seeing the fear in his eyes as she'd told him she was leaving him bound in that body shop had been eviscerating. She'd felt the betrayal, the hurt, the sheer terror roll off him in waves. It was all she could do not to break down, to refuse orders, and to free him. But as always, there was a bigger picture. On she could not ignore. All too soon, things had been set and Granger was ushering her out, away from Deeks and into the car. As she started the engine, she'd realized his blood was on her hands. For once, she'd had no desire to be behind the wheel. Instead, she'd wanted to sit quietly alone and bring to her lips his blood, dry on her fingertips - just as he has brought his lips to hers - and send him silent support. Leaving him behind had been like leaving a part of herself. The best, most important part.

Hours later, and back within the safety of OSP, she'd watched him shut down. It was then that it really began to hit her. He's damaged. Really and truly damaged. And not in a way he'll get over quickly or easily, if ever at all. Hearing him say he wanted to get away from everything had been heartbreaking, and frankly, a bit frightening. She had nearly lost him today. Apparently, she still could.

Going out to relax with the team had seemed like a good idea, but Deeks had remained withdrawn, checked-out, and somber. He hadn't laughed, smiled, or made conversation. He seemed to hang at the fringes, completely disconnected from the others. After accepting one drink from Sam that he never even touched, Deeks had gone home with barely a word, leaving her feeling hollow and helpless.

Lying on her couch with the TV playing softly, Kensi reflects on everything that unfolded today. She closes her eyes as she remembers that sudden, unexpected kiss. She hadn't even had time to process it or react to it. There was a job to be done. Then, things had immediately gone straight to hell on the fast track. A tear slips down her temple, into her hair, and a shuddering sob wracks her exhausted body. Images of a tortured Deeks take center stage in her mind, and just won't go away.

In the quiet semi-darkness, the phone rings, startling her. Seeing his name on the screen brings both relief and concern.

"Hey, Deeks. Are you alright?" She tries to sound stronger than she feels.

"Kens…I need you." His voice is a ragged whisper. It sends her heart into her throat.

"I'm on my way."

Every speed limit ever posted is broken during that drive from her house to his. She doesn't plan to knock when she gets there. She doesn't have to. He's obviously been watching for her, and stands in the doorway, a trembling mess, his face streaked with tears.

"Deeks…"

He opens his mouth and closes it, blinks away the accumulating moisture in his eyes, and fights to form a sentence. "I…I just don't want to be alone."

"I'm here," she says softly, touching his arm.

"Thanks." He takes her hand and shuts the door behind her.

The TV is off, as are most of the lights. It's eerily quiet, and she realizes he's had entirely too much time and space to think while lying here alone in the dark.

"Let's sit down, okay?"

He nods and lets her lead him to the couch, where she takes the remote and turns on the TV, attempting to make things feel more normal. She sits beside him, trying to decide what to say. There's no protocol for this…for when someone you care about deeply is nearly tortured to death.

"Do you want to talk?" she asks, speaking softly.

He shakes his head and sits back against the cushions. "I just…can we just sit and watch a movie for now?"

She nods. "Sure. If that's what you need."

"I don't know what I need." After a moment he turns to her. "Thanks for coming, Kensi. I'm really sorry for…" His voice trails off.

She can't imagine why he's apologizing. "Deeks, it's fine. There is _nothing_ to be sorry for. I'm here whenever you need me, okay?" She attempts a smile. "That's what partners are for, right?" She gently strokes his face, taking in the bruises and the ugly black sutures in his cheek.

He closes his eyes and swallows, but doesn't respond. She moves close beside him, and sits leaning against him. It's not something she's done before, but she needs to be close. She has the feeling he needs the same. She hopes he finds solace in her touch. He wraps an arm around her shoulders and settles in as she flips through the channels and finds a movie. An hour passes, scene after scene play out, but neither says a word. Each is locked inside their own hell, reliving things no one should ever have knowledge of. Without realizing it, she lays her hand on his chest, directly over his heart.

"It's still beating, Kensi," he says softly. Reassuringly.

Something about that sentence undoes her. She bites her lip and squeezes her eyes shut, beginning to tremble.

"Hey," he says, gently stroking the hair from her face. "Kens, what is it?"

She takes a shuddering breath and looks down at her lap. Her voice is unsteady and barely audible. "Everything. Today, and finding you, and leaving you." She pauses, unsure of how much to say. "And before all that…this morning." She can't quite bring herself to mention the kiss, but she feels it, still. She looks up at him. "I'm so tired of fighting this."

He touches her face. "Then, stop." He stares at her, deep into her eyes.

She stares back at him, feeling the truth in his gaze. She brings her lips softly to his, giving up and giving in. She feels his arms come around her, and the floodgates open. A sob catches in her throat, and he pulls her against him. In his arms, she unravels, and feels him do the same.

"I thought you were dead today," she says between sobs.

"So did I."

She clings to him, hanging onto the reality at hand. He's alive. Beaten, broken, damaged, but alive.

"I don't know if I can do this anymore, Kens."

She draws back, wiping her eyes. "What do you mean? Do what?" A sinking feeling overtakes her.

He's barely able to speak, but somehow, he gets the words out. "What we do…the people we deal with…the situations we face. I think I'm done, Kens. I don't think I can take anymore."

"Deeks…" Her heart shatters. She doesn't know what to say. "This is all you've ever wanted. You've told me over and over that it's been your dream. Forever."

"I never wanted _this_," he says bitterly. "I wanted to make a difference and help people. I wanted to take down the bad guys, to put them away, to make the world a safer place."

"And you are."

He runs a hand through his hair and blows out a breath. "I've had enough."

"You've worked so hard, Deeks. Look at all you've accomplished. You're doing _exactly_ what you set out to do. On an even larger scale. It's not just L.A. now. It's the entire country. The _world_. You can't give up now."

"It isn't a dream anymore, Kensi. It's a nightmare. What happened today is so far from what I ever imagined being a cop could be. That stuff's not supposed to happen. To _anyone_. Standoffs, yeah. Shootouts, yeah. Torture? _Torture_, Kensi? Where in the job description of L.A.P.D. detective does it mention torture?"

She closes her eyes. He's right. He never signed up for this. How can she possibly expect him to accept it as just part of the job? Especially when it_ isn't_ his job.

"I'm sorry, Kensi," he says softly, kissing the top of her head.

She looks up at him, hear heart breaking. "I know how this must hurt. I know how disoriented and disappointed and confused you must be right now. You're right…it _shouldn't_ be like this. No one should _ever_ be expected to make those kind of sacrifices for the job."

"But we are."

She nods, gazing into his eyes. "Yeah. Because if _we_ don't, who will? What will this world become without us?"

He closes his eyes and says nothing for a long time. Then he takes a breath. "I'm glad it was me today, and not you."

"Deeks…"

He looks at her. "I'm glad it wasn't you. And I know that it could have been."

"It _should_ have been. You said it yourself. You're a cop. You're not even an agent."

He stares at her thoughtfully. "But you are."

She nods.

"And you were before I showed up and you will be still, even if I walk away."

Again, she nods, fighting the tears that threaten. "I wouldn't want to be."

"But you would. Because this is what you're meant to do. You'll do it without me if you have to."

Tears slip down her cheeks.

Deeks sits silently. His brow furrows and he clenches his jaw. He closes his eyes, clearly fighting with himself; possibly coming to terms with something serious. Then he looks at her. "I can't let you do it alone."

She's afraid to hope, but she wants so badly for him to fight. To not give up. To be who he's always wanted to be. Who he's _meant _to be. "What does that mean?"

He pauses, as if summoning his strength. "I'll try. I can't make any promises, Kens, but I'll try, okay? For you."

She smiles, relief spreading through her chest.

"I said I'll try. Don't get too excited."

She sobers, taking his hands in hers. "I know you have a lot to deal with. It won't be easy. I know that. But, Deeks, I'm here. I'll be right beside you every single day. I won't let you down, partner. I'll be your strength when you're uncertain." She squeezes his hands. "I promise. I'll get you through."

He gazes at her, new tears glittering in his deep blue eyes. "You already have. You're the reason I'm here."

She feels her heart threaten to split open, and sees him slipping back into himself and all the pain of today, and she can't let it happen. She forces herself to smile widely and give him a playful shove. "Well, then, I guess you owe me."

To her relief, he smiles. "I guess I do."

She smiles back and rests her forehead against his, finding comfort in his touch. It emboldens her a bit, and she takes one tentative step onto what she feels might be sacred ground. "You kissed me today."

His eyes sparkle with something like mischief. "I had to shut you up somehow."

She laughs softly, feeling like things might just be okay. "It worked."

He smiles, before placing a small kiss on her nose. "I'll remember that in the future."

She relaxes some, seeing his smile, feeling his touch. He has a thousand miles of rough road ahead of him, and she knows it won't be easy. Not for either of them. Tonight she's sure, will bring nightmares, along with many, many nights to come. But he won't be alone, even if he asks to be. She's his partner and his friend, and she will not let him go it alone.

She can't see the future, and she has no idea what it holds. She only hopes it finds them together, side by side, doing what they're _both_ meant to do. Because although she was an agent before Deeks, she isn't sure she could be one without him.


End file.
